


Hells Bells

by SalamanderWrites13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But I swear I won't queerbait you, Destiel but in the background, Gen, So yeah, a nonbinary or genderfluid character, also it makes my nonbinary heart very happy, because screw the cw, i didnt want to curse, i'll add more tags as i add more chapters, so there, tags are hard man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderWrites13/pseuds/SalamanderWrites13
Summary: When a strange youth appears in the woods of the West Coast, it's dismissed as just another missing person, something the police will take care of. But when a hunter catches wind of it and passes the information on to the Winchesters, they realize that there might be something more to the case after all. A new demon is making himself known, one that heaven and hell thought had disappeared forever.(That sounds cheesy I know but this is the first fic I've ever written and I have no idea how to summarize things)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic I've ever written! I honestly have never been that into fanfic, but the finale broke me. I'm writing this for me, because I have three novels to write and can't focus on any of them. It's kind of what I would picture being the subplot or sideplot of a random season. I am putting in my own character, who isn't exactly me but is similar to myself. I think they're cool. Also I decided to just bring back characters I like because why not I'm pissed that they died so here they are back again. This is completely separate from any season's plots, so I'll add whatever characters I want, thank you very much. This plot, it's been going around in circles in my head so I decided to write it. I can't believe I've actually stooped this low but here I am, writing fanfic on ao3. This is definitely a work in progress! I've switched titles like four times, I think I'm sticking with this one. Anyways yeah happy new year, happy Mishapocalypse 2.0, that was today when I started writing this. That was a lot of random information, so I'm gonna stop myself here. Hope you like it, it was written for me by me for my own entertainment but maybe you'll find it somewhat entertaining. I'm probably gonna update pretty often, or at least until I run out of ideas for the plot. I know where it's going for now, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rewriting some of this now, trying to make it better! You can see my comment about it because I'm too lazy to write that again. I'm also adding chapter titles, and maybe changing up the story a bit, or at least some details. Y'all probably don't care, but I just wanted to put this out there in case anyone wondered idk haha

A gasp, a raspy breath, and open eyes. It's a gray day, but an arm flies up to shield eyes accustomed to darkness. The forest floor is wet, spongy, and smells deeply of earth and of recent rainfall. With a cloud cover, time is nearly impossible to track. In a bed of ferns, a body sprawls, regaining consciousness. They stand up, watching their vision blur. As it clears, they take in their surroundings with wide eyes. A forest of tall, thick trees. Ferns and salal cover the ground, fallen logs and stumps grow fungus and spindly huckleberry plants. They focus on the woods, noticing a slight decline in front of them, giving the appearance of a ravine or a valley. Instinct tells them to go that way. Find water, find open space, find a road, find _something._

A shaking step, unsure and cautious. They test their legs, making sure they'll hold. One foot in front of the other, again, again. A slow walk turns into a steady trot, which turns into a wild run. Something must be in the woods with them. They feel it, the trees have eyes, there's someone there. Down the hill they slide, their torn and faded jeans collecting water from each plant, their t-shirt catching on every branch, as if the forest were grabbing them. Wet hair slaps against their shoulders and face. Soon enough their hiking boots soak through with water and mud, leaving their socks wet and feet cold. Arms numb and cheeks red, they continue to stumble down the steepening slope. 

The woods are getting darker, darker, as evening sets in. It must be nearly winter, all the maples are bare, covered in moss and ferns and nothing more, their many leaves littering the ground. 

A misstep, just one, and suddenly they're tumbling down the slope. They desperately grasp at ferns, spreading out their limbs until they come to a stop at what seems to be the bottom of a hill. A valley floor, perhaps. So cold, getting darker. It seems they landed in a puddle, as cold has seeped deeper into their legs. Keep going, keep stumbling forward. 

Crashing through brambles and praying that the ground stays beneath them, they wander for hours. Or maybe minutes. It's getting darker and darker, but there's no knowing how much time passes. All they know is they're going away from the hill they woke up on. They have to get away from there, they have to find a road. They know these woods, they know they've been here before. There will be a road. 

A glimmer of hope shivers through their body as they spot a break in the trees. A road. Something. Civilization, it must be. Parting the salmonberry bushes with their hands, ignoring the thorns, they emerge from the woods to find... A river. More of a creek really, but flooded with branches and mud. Not what they expected, not what they hoped, but a sign that they've made it to the valley of the hills. Follow the creek, follow it to something.

Cold sets in, dark sets in deeper, and terror starts to clutch at the teen. Maybe they'll die in these woods. Maybe they'll never be found. But they have a task, a mission, something they need to do. And with them they carry a strange sense of... freedom? Freedom. That's it. No one has control over them anymore, they're free. They're on their own. Finally. 

Down stream, down way down, they spot it. A bridge? It must be a bridge. Breaking into a run, they reach it out of breath. It's small, a dirt road traveling from it on either side. They take the direction that travels away from the hills. Those hills are bad, they know it. Keep walking, keep walking. They consider taking off their shoes. All is wet, all is dark. The sun has set. 

Brightness suddenly finds them, the brightest light they've seen in what feels like decades. Headlights. A truck. Frantically, they wave their arms, wanting to scream but finding no voice. The truck screeches to a halt, and a man and woman get out. From the glimpse they catch, these are people they don't know, people they'll trust. No time to think about trust, they have to get inside soon. They're going to die. These people approach them, speaking in loud, alarmed voices, trying to keep them awake. The man has a rough face, stubbly beard, and gray hair. The woman is slightly younger, but has the same look about her. They live here, they know the woods. They both wear camouflage. Hunters, deer hunters, driving back to their house after a day in the forest, traveling the forest service roads and logging roads in search of something to shoot. They stare at these people like a scared animal, like one of the deer they shoot. Afraid, but too cold and tired to fight. Suddenly their knees give way, and they collapse in the road.

"What the hell is a kid doing out here- Lost? Do you think the kid is running?"

"Get her in the truck, we'll drive to the police station. They'll know what to do there."

An engine sputters to life. The inside of the car is warm. They are covered with a jacket. They feel the cold in every nerve in their body, it's inescapable. Stay alive for a bit longer. 

"Hey hey wake up kid c'mon. C'mon kid wake up."   
"The kid will be fine, just let her sleep in the chair over there. We'll get some hot tea or coffee in her. It'll be alright. So you said you found her on a logging road?"  
"Right next to the bridge, yeah. Looked like she'd been out there for hours. But you can see that from the clothes."

They are inside a building now, a room full of desks and papers on the walls. A police station. A map tells them that they're in a small town in Washington. They also learn that it is 1:17 in the morning, and that the date is December 23rd. The sit up from their slumped position and shake off a scratchy blanket that was draped over them. The lights are bright, too bright, and they're still so cold. 

"Hey, someone get me some hot tea over here. Turns out I'm staying here tonight." This speaker is a tall woman standing near one desk. A police officer. A sheriff. She is talking to the man and woman from the truck, who look worried. They seem to know each other, and are muttering more about where exactly they were driving, if there were any other people in the area, the weather, every other question that the hunters could answer. The woman caught their eyes, and nudged the sheriff. 

"Kid's awake."

Another officer stepped into the room through a back door holding a mug full of peppermint tea. He looks nervous as he hands the mug to the youth sitting in the chair. They accept it cautiously, not making eye contact. They decide not to speak yet. Not until they know who to talk to. They reach into their jeans pocket, finding a crumpled piece of paper. They smooth it, fold it, and shove it back down into their pocket after reading the word scrawled there. 

"Keep us updated, alright?" The woman hunter says. The sheriff nods, patting the woman's shoulder. The hunter's name is Lauren, the man had mentioned it before. The man's name is Earl. They turn to make their leave, out the door into the night. The sound of car doors and an engine starting. 

"So, kid. You have a name? Can you talk to me?" The tall woman strides across the room and sits a seat away from the teen. They take a sip of tea in response. 

"Alright, you don't have to talk. It's okay. My name's Alice. Most people call me Sheriff Walker, though, but you don't have to. Most people know me here by Alice." 

They look at her, thanking her with their eyes. 

"'Kay then. If you can stand up, why don't we get you dried off and in some warm clothes. I can set you up in the kitchen if you'd like. We don't have much food I'm afraid, but I'll find you something. I have some work to do, okay? I'm gonna find your parents, and get you back to them. You talk when you want to, or I can get you some paper and you can just write, that's alright too."  
"I'll talk." Their voice is scratchy and low. It hasn't been used in a long, long time.  
"Oh! Okay, thank you! Will you tell me your name?"  
"Sawyer."  
"Thank you, Sawyer. How about a last name, huh? Can I know your last name?"  
Sawyer looks away.

They walk through the door the other cop had left earlier, and Alice gestures for Sawyer to sit at a table in the middle of the room. The room is furnished with a counter, a microwave, a fridge, and a sink. Alice crosses to the fridge, opens it, and finds it empty.   
"I can go grab you some food, if you'd like. Or get someone else to do it."  
"I'm not hungry." This is not true, but Sawyer knows that no food will stay in their stomach.   
"Alright. Well uhm... I'm gonna make a few calls if you don't mind. I'll be right back, you just stay in here."  
"'Kay." Sawyer makes themself comfortable, and takes another sip of the hot tea, burning their throat and heating them up. Those lights are still too bright, and the building is strange, and there is danger in those hills, but for now, Sawyer is safe.

Dean walks wearily into the library, sitting at a table. The lamps are on, and Sam is already there, on his computer. He's talking to someone on a phone as he reads something the screen. A focused, slightly bewildered expression is plastered on his face, brows furrowed and jaw pushed out. Dean stays for a minute, watching Sam but not quite listening. After he attempts to ask who's on the phone, he's shooed away by Sam, so he gets up to get himself a coffee. His watch tells him that it's approaching 5 in the morning, and he knows that sleep is no longer possible. On the way out of the library, he grabs Sam's almost-empty coffee mug. Sam is distracted, but looks up and nods at him appreciatively. Dean wonders if his brother slept much at all. 

The kitchen is filled with the smell of burning food. Smoke trails along the ceiling, and leaks out into the dimly lit bunker hallway. Cas is in there, wearing a pair of slippers and a loose t-shirt under Dean's robe. He is panting and wildly fanning the air with a flannel shirt, trying to clear some of the smoke that billows from the stove where a pan of what were once eggs is sitting. Cooking is not the angel's strong suit, and despite the his efforts, never will be. Jack sits on a counter nearby, watching his dad awkwardly dance around the kitchen fanning the air. He looks like he wants to help, but any thoughts of assistance leave his head when Dean walks in. Jack smiles brightly, despite the chaos in the kitchen. Dean tiredly shoots him back a half-grin.

"Hey Cas, I'll heat up some breakfast. Go get Sam some coffee or something, and try and see what he's doing alright?" Cas drops the flannel to the ground, defeated.   
"Morning, Dean, sorry about the..." he gestures to the stove regretfully. Dean mumbles something reassuring about eggs in his ear as he pulls him into a half-hug. Cas, slightly blushing, takes Sam's coffee mug and fills it from the full pot next to the coffee machine. He leaves with it, turning to wave slightly to Dean and Jack on his way out.  
"Those eggs are past saving," Dean says to Jack, who had hopped down from the counter and made his way to the stove. "I'm just glad he managed to fix a decent pot of coffee without burning down the whole bunker."   
"That was me, actually! Sam taught me how to use the coffee machine yesterday. I've been practicing!" Jack smiles again, looking proud. He had learned how to use a toaster the previous week, and had been showing an interest in cooking. Dean suspects that that's what Cas had been trying to teach him with the unfortunate pan of eggs.  
"Nice job, kid. You might wanna taste it before giving it out to people, though. Heh. This mug of beans darker than Sam's search history." Dean takes a sip and makes an exaggerated face to prove the point. This makes Jack grin even wider, and he takes a sip of a glass of milk sitting on the counter next to him. He doesn't much like coffee. It's too bitter, and it makes him feel weird for the whole day. Sam and Dean drink it too much, he knows that, and even Cas has started to have a mug every morning. He thinks that every adult drinks coffee at some point, and they just can't stop after that. He doesn't drink coffee yet, since he's still a kid. Besides, he doesn't want to have to drink it every morning, too.

Dean and his son fan the air for a while, trying to clear out the smoke from the eggs. It reminds Jack a bit of what sulfur smells like, but not nearly as bad. After a few minutes, Dean coughs a bit and tosses the towel he'd been waving around.   
"Jack, we can let this place air out for a bit. Let's see what Sam's up to."  
"Sure!" He takes his glass of milk with him and follows Dean into the library. He grabs the flannel off the floor also, and puts it on. It isn't his, but he thinks it makes him look older, like Sam and Dean. He likes the ones with red in them. He likes red quite a lot, actually. Except when it's blood color. Then it's not nearly as nice.

As they round a corner in the hallway, Dean starts humming "White Christmas" to himself, and before he notices, he's singing the words too as he walks. His voice is scratchy in the morning, but the feeling of Christmas is somehow reaching even him, down in the bunker, away from anyone who might even think of celebrating a holiday. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and that still puts him in a good mood, however childish that might be. Jack likes hearing Dean sing. He sings with a good voice, and sometimes when he thinks no one's listening, he sings with a _really_ good voice. He's always in a good mood when he's singing. 

"A white Christmas? You might want to rethink that one." Sam greets Dean and Jack as they arrive. Jack goes to stand next to Cas, who puts his arm around him. Dean stands next to the table, leaning on his brother's chair, and looks at his computer screen. He's got missing persons reports pulled up, all surrounding the West Coast. On the table are even more missing persons reports from the entire country, going back about 15 years. All of them are for kids or teens, and all look similar. Dark brown hair, gray or blue eyes, a heavier build, light skin. He isn't searching for a case, he's found one. He's searching for one person.

"Why am I rethinking my white Christmas? It's been snowing all week," Dean says, peering at the pictures of lost kids. He may not be festive, and he may not love holidays, but nothing is better than a good old-fashioned snow day. Not anything. 

"Because someone found us a case. In Washington." Sam pulls a piece of notebook paper out from beneath a stack. It's covered in his scratchy, hurried handwriting.  
"I thought we were staying for the holidays?"  
"We've been here for weeks. Besides, this is an important case, I can tell."  
Dean sighs. "Alright, give me the details."

Sam turns in his chair to face the other occupants in the room.   
"Alright, get this. Some hunters- deer hunters, not like us hunters- in Washington were driving at night and they found a person, cold and covered in mud and blood, just walking around in the woods."  
"Sam, are you certain that's a case?" Cas says, turning his gaze away from Dean to look at Sam doubtfully.  
"Yeah, Sammy, that just sounds like some homeless guy to me," Dean says, breaking eye contact with Cas as well to look back at the laptop. He feigns curiosity as he looks away, sneaking glances back at his angel. 

"You didn't let me finish. This wasn't just some guy. It was a kid. A girl, aged somewhere from 14 to 16. And she was brought into the police station unconscious. No identification or anything, and she didn't match any of the missing persons reports that the local cops or our own sources could find."  
"I still don't see how that's our thing. No deaths or nothing? Could just be some lost kid." Dean sits down and finishes off the last of his coffee, only slightly more awake. He slowly sets down his mug and finds another question in his mind. "Who found this case, anyways?"  
"Hunter in the area, she's friends with the sheriff. Look, this may not seem like a case yet, I didn't think it was either, but then she sent me this. The only thing the kid had on her when she was found, kept it stuffed in her pocket. They said she wouldn't let them see it for very long, she kept holding onto it for comfort."

Sam closes out of the missing persons reports on his computer, and beckons Jack and Cas to his side of the table. They gather around his chair, leaning in. On the screen is an image of a piece of paper, crumpled and slightly mud spattered. On the piece of paper in black pen was one word. The letters were all capitalized, all drawn over many times to thicken them. Dean takes a step back after reading it, his intended loud "What in hell" coming out a small whisper. Cas murmurs something along the lines of "I don't understand." Jack says nothing at all, just stares in perplexed silence at the picture of the paper.

The one word. " **WINCHESTERS.** " 


	2. The Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll keep these short this time! I can't believe people actually looked at the first chapter of this, that's so strange and incredible! Thank you guys! If you want, I would love feedback if you have any! Criticisms, advice, anything! You can expect quite a few more chapters of this. I've got a pretty good plot in my head, but no ending. Anyways, I'm feeling good while writing this, I think it's going pretty well. I'm listening to a playlist called "Songs To Drive The Impala To", and the clock just struck 4:00 am. That's all from me for now. Hope you enjoy the new chapter! Or don't! Either way!

"That's- that's our name. That's our name! What the hell does that mean? Sammy I swear you better have an explanation because-"  
"...Told you it was a case."  
"What so some kid wants to go grab some brunch, maybe some coffees, we'll have a nice chat, maybe talk about politics and the recent Kardashian drama and then maybe finish the nice outing with an explanation as to _why a random ass kid was in the woods with our name on a paper?"  
_"Dean, calm down, please. Sit down. The four of us will go find out what this is about. It's just another case, we'll solve it. There's nothing here to shout about." Cas puts his hand on Dean's shoulder, his voice firm but his demeanor calming.   
Jack drags his eyes away from the paper, and looks at Sam. "Do you think she's a monster? Or maybe a hunter! Or an angel? Or maybe a..." Jack trails off, out of ideas. He's excited for another case, and intrigued by the mystery. He brushes a lock of blond hair out of his face, and then realizes something, causing his eyes to light up. "Hey, I was born in Washington! That's my state!" The adults exchange a look, a small smile passing between them.

"So, meet at the car in 20?" Sam says, glancing at each of his family members, and closing his laptop. Dean sits in a frustrated silence, looking at the table and childishly pouting. He must be thinking. He snaps out of his trance and nods, dejectedly singing "White Christmas" as he walks to his room. Cas leaves after Dean, holding his arm and talking to him quietly. Dean chuckles, his anger gone briefly. Jack gets up as Sam does, and makes for his room.   
"Hey Jack, wait up."  
The boy stops abruptly and turns. "What's up, Sam? Need help with something?"  
"No, I was just uh wondering... Are you wearing my flannel?" Sam gestures to the shirt Cas had been using in the kitchen. Jack now wore it loosely over his t-shirt.   
"Oh, yeah, it is! It was on the ground, I put it on. I guess you want it back, right?" Jack starts pulling his arm out of one sleeve.   
"No, no, keep it. It looks good! I've got enough anyways." Sam pats his shoulder, grinning. The kid is growing up, but he's still a kid.

The trunk of the Impala slams shut, all the weapons stowed inside, along with the duffel bags of all four Winchesters. Doors slam shut, the car roars to life, and Baby speeds out into the dark, the moon glinting off her paint and the snow muffling the sound of her engine in the night. 

As Dean heads Northwest, happy to be on the road despite his previous complaints about the holidays. In the passenger seat, Sam fumbles with a Washington gazetteer, opening to a page that displays the small town that is their destination. He studies the surrounding areas until he finds what he's looking for, the logging road where the kid was found, and marks the location on the map in pen. In the back, Jack is telling Cas about his experiences with making coffee and toast, and together they discuss how to cook over a stove, a topic that has caused much speculation between the two in recent days. Dean flips on the radio and loads a tape. Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon" begins to play, causing a surprised look from Sam.   
"Fleetwood Mac? You-" He smirks, then laughs. "You've got Fleetwood Mac in here?"  
"Stevie Nicks is a legend, Sam. A damn legend."  
Cas, surprisingly, begins to hum along. The angel's music taste remains a mystery to Dean.  
Sam laughs again. "Hey man, I wasn't arguing."   
The rumbling, growling sound of the engine continues, drowned out only by the four off-key, out of tune voices singing Rhiannon with their windows rolled down and their music cranked up. The feeling of happiness dwarfs the feeling of apprehension that they had felt earlier. The family business continues. Their family. 

Sheriff Alice Walker is a very kind woman. She stays in the police station with Sawyer all night, keeping them company. She quickly learned not to attempt a conversation, but still talks a little to the kid. Mostly, though, she makes sure all their needs are met, retrieving some clean clothes from a donations box that had been brought to them earlier that week. Sawyer had picked a light blue hoodie and a pair of gray sweatpants. The clothes were ill-fitting, but they were warm and dry, and that's all they need. That and they liked the look of light blue with their eyes and their hair. At one point in the night, Alice made Sawyer a sandwich, and they had consumed it ravenously, but refused any more food after that. They also refused to sleep. 

The sheriff makes a few more phone calls that night, speaking in a hushed voice, leaving Sawyer in the room with their thoughts. At one point they had wandered around the building, making their way through rooms with desks, to storage closets, and even finding the cells where the police would keep people overnight. Sawyer is glad they aren't staying in one of those. Sitting back at the table, Alice approaches them.   
"I haven't checked if you've got any injuries. Do you mind if I do that? Will you tell me if anything hurts? I've seen you limping a bit, I know there's something up with your leg."  
The woman had already asked when Sawyer had first arrived, after the people had left. They had said that they were just fine, save for a few cuts on their arms, legs, and face. Those had been washed out in the sink, when they were cleaning the mud off of themself. They had gotten some hydrogen peroxide from Alice, but wouldn't let her put band-aids on them.  
"My ankle does hurt. Fell down a hill." Sawyer still can't- or more accurately won't- manage to speak louder than a mumble. They allow Alice to wrap their ankle in an Ace bandage, but refuse ice. A small injury, maybe a roll. The pain of it is bearable, and in a way it is comforting. It is real. 

The Impala pulls into a small motel in Montana at 10 o'clock at night. The boys pay for a room for the night. They aim to arrive by the next day, after two long days of driving. Their hunter friend has kept Sam updated on the happenings in the town, serving as communication to the local sheriff as well. The police had already been advised to keep it out of the news, and knew not to draw much attention to it, outside of the town. The kid had been kept at the police station, and the sheriff was expecting them, posing as FBI, to show up any day. The hunter had informed her that the child was related to a case they were on, and that they could not disclose any more information about it. This, of course, had raised questions, but had also prevented the woman from asking them.

On the road the next day, Dean let Jack drive for a small stretch. The kid needed practice, and Dean was tired. When the car swerved violently to avoid a fallen branch, then nearly ran off the road, there was consensus that it was time for Dean to drive again. Jack had done well, they all assured him, but the boy knew he wouldn't be driving for a while. 

Two days passed quickly for Sawyer, although they were bored the whole duration of them. They had gotten to know Alice pretty well during that time, through their mostly-one-sided conversations. Alice liked to talk, and Sawyer found it comforting. The more she talked the less they had to. Sheriff Alice Walker lived at home with her wife and son, and had been sheriff for six years. Her wife taught at the nearest elementary school, and they had been married for three years. Their son, Jeremy, had turned four the other day.  
"You would like him. He's a good kid. Quiet, like you, and real smart. I think you're probably real smart too."

The sheriff had brought them a few books from their donations too, and Sawyer had decided to read _Wonder_ . They enjoyed the book rather a lot, and sped through it all in a day. An officer also brought them a stack of newspapers, which featured articles that seemed to be exclusively about agriculture. They learned about a farmer south of the town that had started growing a corn maze, which would be opened the following year. That year's harvest had also brought the county's largest Delicata squash. On the front of the paper was a picture of a large man in larger overalls, holding up a squash almost the size of his head. The officer that brought the papers sat with them for a couple of hours, doing crosswords. His name was Jeffrey. He was even friendlier than Alice, and smiled the whole time. He had an affinity for croissants, and ate two of them in the time they spent together that day. Sawyer can tell that the people there are confused by them, possibly even apprehensive. They know that the hushed conversations were about them, they feel the sideways glances. They should get away from there soon, but something tells them to stay. To wait. Wait for the Winchesters.  
Alice taps their shoulder as they read _Wonder_ for the second time, startling them.   
"Sorry to interrupt your reading, but I wanted to let ya know that there are going to be some men coming to see you today, probably in the evening. They're FBI. They're going to get you back to your family, they promised they would. Is that okay?"  
"That's fine."  
"Good. Good! Thank you. I bet you're glad to hear that, right? Gonna see your family again? I'm sure they're really worried about you."  
"Yeah. Probably are." 

Sam got off the phone with the owner of the Rhododendron Motel as the Impala parked outside the police station. It was dark already, being winter in the Northwest, and they had already stopped to put on their suits. Briefly, they argued over who should go in to talk to the sheriff. They decided that the four of them would be too many, so Jack and Cas opted to stay in the car, seeing as Sam and Dean were the actual Winchesters, who the paper was most likely referring to. They had already dropped Jack and Cas at the motel.

Into the station the brothers stride, straightening their ties and smoothing out their clothes. A tall woman greeted them in the front room, introducing herself as Sheriff Alice Walker, and immediately guessing that they were FBI. She didn't ask to see their badges, she just asked for their names. Dean introduces himself as Agent Taylor, and Sam as Agent May.  
"Well, agents, she's right back here. I've tried my best to keep her comfortable and entertained, and she's mostly just stayed in the kitchen. Hasn't talked much, hasn't eaten much. Hasn't slept at all."  
Sam frowned and looked at Dean. "Has she told you anything? Information of any kind?"   
"After I saw the paper, all I've gotten was a name. Sawyer."  
"Great, thanks. I think we've already gotten all the details you had, over the phone."  
"That's right. Poor kid, she's been through a lot I'm sure."

The sheriff opens the door to the kitchen, and tells them to wait outside a second. They nod and stand awkwardly outside the door, not bothering to talk, instead listening as well as they could through the door. 

"Hey, Sawyer. Those men I told you about? They're here. They're just going to ask you a few questions, okay? I'll stay here for a bit, but then I'm gonna leave and let them talk to you. I think you're going to be going with them, alright?"  
Sawyer finds themself feeling nervous. Nervous? No, not quite. Apprehensive? They're always apprehensive. Excited. They find themself feeling excited. They nod their head and smile at Alice. She's treated them so well.   
"Don't worry, you don't have to say too much. Just answer if you can, alright? And don't be shy, they seem nice enough."

With that, she gets up to let Sam and Dean in. 

At the table sits a young teen, wearing too-big clothes and sporting unkempt, dark brown hair, nearly reaching her wide shoulders. She rhythmically rocks back and forth in her chair, on edge. Both boys smile instinctively, and approach the table. Alice takes a seat near the girl, and mutters some words of encouragement to her. 

"Hey, Sawyer, is it? Can we sit down with you?" Dean asks, pulling a chair back from the table. The girl nods, and both boys take seats.The screeching of the chair legs on the tile floor seems to disturb the kid, as she winces at the sound. Definitely jumpy.   
"Hey, Sawyer," Sam says in a calm voice, "we're just going to talk to you for a bit. Okay? I'm Sam, and that's Dean. We're gonna help you out."  
"Okay."  
"Alright, great, thank you. Is it okay if we talk to you alone, or do you want the sheriff to stay here with you?"  
"She can go. It's fine." Sawyer looks at Alice, putting as much confidence into their facial features as they can.  
"I'll go get a bag to put your old clothes in," she says to Sawyer. Then, to the Winchesters, "I washed them, the other clothes. All muddy and ragged." Alice smiles and pats Sawyer's shoulder, then leaves through a door that leads to the room full of desks. She looks worried when she turns away from the table.   
"'Kay," Dean waves as she leaves, and Sam nods. As soon as she exits, their smiles fade into serious expressions.

Dean clears his throat and speaks up. "Look, Sawyer, I'm going to get right to the point here. You've got a piece of paper in your hand. It's got something written on it. Do you know what it is?"  
Sawyer takes the paper from their hoodie pocket, and sets it on the table. They smooth it out and turn it toward the brothers.   
"Winchester. That's you." They look up to meet their eyes, seeing surprise there. They decide not to tell these men very much, since they haven't quite figured out what's in their head for themself, so they certainly haven't figured out what to tell other people. Can they trust them? They think they can trust them. But someone could be listening here, and they don't want that.

"That's right, we're the Winchesters. Here and in the flesh. Would you mind explaining why that paper was in your pocket?" Dean leans back and folds his arms, as Sam looks at him with a warning face. Sam is still trying to be friendly and inviting, he can tell the teen is still scared.   
"I'm supposed to find you two. That's what the paper's for. Reminder."  
"And do you know who wrote it? Do you remember anything from before you were on that road?"  
"Nope. Nothing."   
Dean's turn to ask a question. "So you have no memories? None at all?"  
"I remember falling down a hill. And running. It was cold. That's all." They try their best to seem as if they have nothing to hide, but they can tell that they've failed at this.  
Sam sighs and rests his arms on the table, clasping his hands together.   
"Alice said I was going with you. Where?"  
"Well until we can find out what's happening here, you're probably going to be at the Rhododendron Motel. That's where we're staying. Unless you've got somewhere you can go, in which case you should tell us right now." Dean tips forward in his chair again, the noise startling Sawyer.  
"I’ve got nowhere else."

"Well, if you'll excuse us, we're going to go talk to your friend Alice out there. Unless you've got more to say." Sam still has the kind tone in his voice, and Sawyer suspects that it's genuine. They don't know what else to say to these men, not here. They say this.  
"I don't."  
"Well then we'll have our little chat, say our goodbyes, then we'll head out." Dean gets up and heads for the door.  
Sam hangs back. He gestures to the book on the table. " _Wonder._ That's a good one. I got to read it a couple years ago."   
"I like it."  
There's a beat of silence, then Sam makes eye contact with Sawyer, making them fidget. "Hey, you can trust us. I promise you can. That might not mean a lot to you, but I hope you're able to feel safe. I know you've had a strange couple of days." Definitely genuine.  
Sawyer hesitates. "I trust you," they say softly.   
"Good." With that, Sam stands to follow Dean through the door. 

"So, did she tell you anything?" Alice asks when they come through the door. It seems that she had been waiting outside. Of course she was. She had been out there, worriedly pacing.  
"You weren't kidding when you said the kid wasn't talking much," Dean chuckles.  
"Yeah, a girl of few words. Well, what's the verdict? You taking her back to her family? You've found them, right?"  
Sam shifts his weight, taking an awkward half step forward. Dean scratches his arm and looks away.   
"Well, we were um- we were thinking about staying in town for a while, at least until we get some more information from the kid." The sheriff looks concerned. "We'll send her home as soon as we can, though. Promise," Sam adds, unconvincingly.   
"Alright," Alice sighs. "I'll grab her stuff. If you're gonna be here a while, you should get the kid some more stuff. Some clothes, maybe a hairbrush. I can send ya with some money, if you'd like. Oh, and get some food and water in her. She needs it. Sleep too, if you can get her to."  
"We'll take care of her, don't worry," Dean assures her.   
"Okay, I believe you. It's- well... I've grown kind of attached to the kid since she's been here. She's a nice kid. It's really a shame that she's had it so rough." The sheriff glances at the door to the kitchen, then back to the boys. "Wish I knew what happened to her. You keep me updated on what happens, alright? And call me if there's anything you need. I'm gonna go get her now."  
"Thank you, sheriff."   
"Yeah, thanks."

Alone in the room, Sawyer panics as they contemplate what will happen. They trust the Winchesters, they're certain of that. But what will happen to them? Will they tell the Winchesters what they know? The Winchesters, if they know, what will they do? Sawyer has a secret, one they don't want to tell. They will, they decide, but not yet. Not until they know more about these men. They can't hear the conversation outside, and they don't want to know what's being said. After a long minute, Alice opens the door and asks them to come out. They take a last look at the kitchen, and spy _Wonder_ on the table. They grab it on the way out, stuffing the "Winchester" paper between the pages that they'd been reading. 

Seconds later, Alice returns with Sawyer, holding a paper bag in one hand. She hands the bag to Sawyer, and bends down to meet their eyes.   
"You stay safe out there. I'm so glad I got to meet you. It's all gonna be alright, kid. Maybe I'll see you again, right? Or maybe not, that might be best."   
"Thank you. For all you did."  
"My pleasure, Sawyer." Sawyer moves to give the book back to Alice, but she shakes her head. "You keep it. You seemed to really like it, and that's the least I can do. Here, take some money for the road. Really, I insist."  
"Thank you." They take the ten dollar bill Alice produces from her wallet with a smile, and awkwardly offer her a handshake. They then turn to Sam and Dean, and follow them through the doors, outside into the night. 

The Impala waits in the parking lot, and Sawyer's eyes widen when the Winchesters move toward their respective doors.   
"Pretty car," they say, stepping off the sidewalk.   
Dean smiles proudly at this and unlocks the back door. Sawyer climbs in, setting their bag next to them on the seat. They slide into the middle of the back seat so they can see the front.  
"We'll let you get some sleep at the motel. It's a short drive, don't worry," Sam says as Dean starts the car. Sawyer suppresses a yawn. 

After a minute or two on the road, Dean loads a tape into the tape deck.   
"Hope you like Black Sabbath," he says, as the opening to War Pigs begins. Sawyer has never heard the song before, but enjoys the music. Sam looks irritated, but after a few minutes, he is playing air guitar to Dean's singing. Sawyer timidly pretends to play the drums. 

The motel is a twenty minute drive from the police station. The drive goes quickly with music playing. The Winchesters don't talk much on the way there, which is fine with Sawyer. They can't think of anything worth saying. When they pull up outside their motel room, a heavy downpour of rain picks up, adding to the streams of water already racing along the edges of the road. They take their bag from the seat and climb out of the car. Sam and Dean take some objects from the trunk of the car, but Sawyer can't see what they're doing. The air is frigid, and Sawyer watches their breath make clouds that are barely visible in the rain. They can't tell if it's approaching ten, midnight, or dawn.   
"Hey, when you get in there, we'll set you up to get some sleep. We can fit you in somewhere, save all the small talk for tomorrow. Right now your goal is sleep. Gotta be well rested if we're gonna get any info out of you tomorrow, right?" Dean says this jokingly, of course, but Sawyer knows that if he wanted to he could probably get any information out of them that he wanted. They aren't afraid of him, though, not any more than they're afraid of everything else.  
"What he's trying to say is get some rest, you'll need it. You don't have to tell us anything yet if you don't want to." Sam glares at Dean, behind Sawyer's back.   
"Oh calm down, Sammy. It's not like we're gonna torture it out of the kid."   
"Dean, you can't just say stuff like that- it'll sound like a threat."  
"Whatever." Dean fumbles with the key in the lock of the motel room door, his hands wet. "Does it ever stop raining in this damn state?!" This causes a chuckle from Sam, and a soft "not really" from Sawyer.  
After a minute of struggling, the door to room thirteen swings open, and the brothers and Sawyer step inside. 

The room is not well lit, and it's decor reminds Sawyer of an old hunting cabin. There are pictures on the walls of bears catching salmon in flowing rivers, of eagles in trees, and of other various animals. The bedspreads have pine cones on them, and almost match the curtains, but don't quite. There is a fake set of deer antlers above the door. The room is furnished with a small table, a TV stand with an old TV, two beds, and a battered looking armchair. There are four duffel bags in a corner of the room, outside the door to the bathroom. A flannel shirt and a trench coat sit in a crumpled pile on the ground next to them. On one bed, two people sit, both watching something on a laptop that one holds. Holding the laptop is an older man, wearing a white shirt and a blue tie, which is backwards. He has dark hair and blue eyes. He smiles when Sam and Dean enter, his eyes focused on Dean. The other person on the bed hops up when they enter, and walks over to greet them. He closely resembles the other man, but with fairer hair. Father and son, Sawyer decides.   
"Sam, Dean! Cas and I were learning how to make eggs. There are so many videos on YouTube about it! It's incredible! Hey is that-"  
He spots Sawyer, and apparently recognizes them.   
"Sawyer, meet Jack. And over there is Cas. They're our family. The other Winchesters," Sam gestures to both of them. Sawyer shakes Jack's hand. He shakes their hand too emphatically and for too long, as if he hadn't quite gotten the hang of the shake yet.   
"Good to meet you both," they say normally as they can. They set their bag of clothes on the table, and _Wonder_ slides out. A sudden twinge in their injured ankle causes them to sit down in the old armchair.   
Sam and Dean take off their suit jackets and their shoes, and Sam sits back on the unoccupied bed. Jack sits on the foot of it, but quickly stands up.   
"I think I'm going to make myself a bed on the ground. In case I want some sleep. Do we have extra blankets?" He's directed to a closet, which he begins rummaging around in.  
Dean sits next to Cas, and Sawyer notices that they are sitting very close. In an almost undetectable movement, Cas slips his hand into Dean's. They must be Jack's dads. 

Sam sits up and awkwardly claps his hands together. "Well Sawyer we can set you up on one of the beds, sorry we can only pay for one room. We'll get another one tomorrow, I think..."   
"It's alright. I'll be alright here. This chair is nice." They take off their rain boots and settle into the armchair. It smells like must and cigarettes. He doesn't look convinced, but shrugs and sits back anyways. Jack's bed is built in between the two beds, on the floor. He roots through a duffel bag and produces a small red flashlight, then walks across the room to turn off the light.   
"Hey, can I read your book?" He asks as he passes Sawyer in their chair.  
"What?"   
"Your book. Is it okay if I read it? I don't really sleep."  
"Oh. Okay. It's a good book." Sawyer removes the paper from the page they left it on, and shove it deep into the pocket of their pants. They hand the book to the boy Jack.  
"Thank you," he says brightly, taking the book. His flashlight clicks on as he reaches his bed, and he opens the book in his lap, like a child reading at night under their blankets in bed. 

Sawyer's eyes are closing. They are going to sleep. The have to. They want to.

The only sound is the pattering of the rain on the roof and the occasional shifting of blankets. The sounds of people relaxing for the first time in a day, a week, a month. And yet no one is quite calm.

"Cas, move over. You've got the whole bed," comes Dean's gruff whisper after a few seconds of silence.  
"Just go with Sam," comes Cas's tired reply.   
"You kidding? He's like ten feet tall, and all limbs, there ain't room there."  
"Fine." This is accompanied by rustling of sheets. 

Sawyer feels safe. They feel warm. They feel content. They close their eyes, finally able to let their guard down, at least for a few hours. 


	3. The Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Man this has gotten more attention than I expected! To think that 23 people actually saw this is a really weird, nice feeling. I am a writer, or at least I want to be, so any advice you might have is greatly appreciated! Also any ideas for the story, any criticisms you have, anything! But you don't have to if you don't want to. I have found that I actually love writing this, it's a fun challenge to see if I can not only create characters, but to accurately portray ones that have already been created! Now my last chapter was written at like 5 in the morning, which isn't good. I won't be doing that again. Sorry if the writing was awful, I don't draft these or really check them much. It's only like 9:30 now, so I'm gonna get writing! Thank you again for reading this! I hope you enjoy the next chapter!  
> Here's an update I forgot to add: I'm pretty busy catching up with school so I don't know when I'll have time to update, they might not be too frequent, since chapters take a bit to write and I'm writing other things also. That's all!  
> ~S

The night begins, and a deep sleep finally settles over Sawyer's brain. At first, they don't have any dreams at all. Just dark, just rest. But the dreams come eventually. Those woods. Those evil woods. They don't think about the horrors that lead them there, they don't dream about when they were there before. They dream about that often, and it's always a nightmare. Now they only dream about what was left in those woods. The evil. It sits where they woke up, in a cluster of ferns, right under their back, right under their heart. Right where they buried it. It's slightly pushed into the ground, a metallic glint in the dirt. In the dream, Sawyer bends and reaches for it, touching it. As soon as the small metal object touches their fingers, they are struck with a sharp pain, racing from their fingers to their arms to their shoulders, their chest, their heart, their lungs, their brain. Their whole body. Like an electric shock. Their vision goes black, and they wake up in the armchair in the hotel room, out of breath. The room is already bright, the sun has been up for a while. Sawyer shifts from their curled up position, sitting correctly in the chair. The bags have been moved. One bed is made, the other is messy. The room is not empty.   
"Never saw the point of making beds, really. Sam too, he leaves motel beds a mess. I guess you can see that. Why make it if you're just gonna mess it all up next time you sleep? Cas always likes to, though, so I let him." Dean is sitting at the table, laptop open, a map open next to him, a beer bottle half-empty beside that.  
"Where is everyone?"  
"Well I think Sam and Jack are going to talk to those rednecks that found you, and they sent Cas to the police station to dig up more information. We don't really have all that much, thanks to your... helpful silence."  
"Sorry."  
"Eh, whatever. We'll get it from you some day."  
"How long did I sleep?"  
"A healthy amount, unlike most of us. No offense, kid, but you look like you haven't done that in at least a year." Dean looks at Sawyer with an expression that shows both humor and concern. Sawyer senses that this is a common expression for him to give people.   
"Why'd you stay here?"  
"Oh well, funny story. Short version, I have a 'bad injury' and should 'avoid re-injury if at all possible'." He uses air quotes throughout this sentence, obviously not happy with this statement. Sawyer guesses that those were the words of Cas.   
"The long version?" they shift to face him, and notice a bandage wrapped around his upper arm, recently changed.   
Dean sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I did something stupid while on a job last week. Sam didn't appreciate it. Cas almost had a heart attack. So now I'm grounded for a while. Babysitting. I wish I could be out there, helping, but seeing Cas in a suit pretty much makes up for it."

"Thanks again, Sheriff, for your help." Cas, already on the way to the door, a folder full of missing persons reports, background on the area, and other information clutched in his hand, turns back to face the sheriff.   
"Of course, I'm happy to help. Say, uh, how's the kid doing? She slept, I assume? And ate? Of course, you guys know what you're doing. Have you gotten her to say anything?"  
"Well, ah, she did sleep. Or, well, she was asleep when I left. Hasn't eaten yet, but I'm sure my... colleague will assist her with that. He's there now, so if she decides to say anything he'll be there to hear it." Cas fidgets, adjusting his suit jacket. It's one of Dean's, which he had substituted for his trench coat per Dean's advice. He was working with them now, so of course his disguise needed to be just as professional as theirs.   
"She seemed to like your colleagues when she met them yesterday," the sheriff points out. Cas nods. He clears his throat.   
"They're good people. Well, I'm going to take this with me. I'm sure it will help us get closer to solving this. Thank you, again."  
"Sure thing!" The sheriff waves. Cas waves back, thinking of Jack's usual greeting. He wonders briefly who the kid picked it up from, and smiles to think it could have been him. 

Sam and Jack stand on the porch of a dilapidated house a mile or so from town. Chickens mill about the yard, and an unfortunate-looking dog sits in the grass feet away, watching the people on the porch with large eyes. He looks down at Jack, who had been taking initiative in the conversation with Earl, the man who had found Sawyer. Lauren, who they learned is the man's daughter, is at the grocery store. Jack looks to Sam, and Sam nods encouragingly, prompting Jack to ask another question.   
"So this might be an odd question, but did you smell anything in the woods? Or feel any place that was particularly cold?"  
"Entire woods was cold, it's the dead of winter. It's all cold. As for a smell, it all smelled like woods. Only place that smelled off was up on a hill. Entire place reeked like something dead, which there probably was. Like rotten eggs." Earl hadn't invited them inside, and Sam suspected that he didn't like them very much. Maybe he didn't trust them. Sam understands this, he doesn't exactly trust the FBI either. He exchanges a glance with Jack. Sulfur. Demons. Demons were there.  
"Thank you, sir. I think that's all the questions we have. Thank you for your time."   
"'Course. This is the weirdest thing that's happened to me since them weird jellyfish fell from the sky a few towns over in the 90's."   
"Uh... right. Well, thank you. We'll contact you if we need anything. And to keep you updated." Sam pats Jack on the back to tell him that it's time to go. He was staring at the chickens intently, and Sam could tell he wasn't all there. 

  
"I like chickens. Maybe someday I'll have some," Jack says when they make it a few feet from the porch, out of earshot. The door to the house is already closed.   
"Yeah, chickens are nice." Jack says that almost every day, things he wants to do "maybe someday." The kid has a lot of aspirations.   
Sam lets Jack drive the Impala back to the police station to pick up Cas, under strict instruction not to tell Dean about it. 

Sam's phone rings. It's Dean.   
"Hey, Dean, what's going on? Kid awake yet?"  
"Yeah, she's awake. In the shower right now, I think. I was thinking about telling her. Y'know, about hunting. You think if she knew she'd want to talk?"  
"Well she'll either want to open up or never talk again. I don't see why we shouldn't tell her, though." Sam wishes he were there to give the kid "The Talk". (They really need to call it something else.) Sam always notices that Dean's version of it is a little too... blunt. Then he remembers what Earl had said, about smelling sulfur.  
"Hey Dean?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Give the kid some holy water. As a test. Just to be safe."  
"Are there demons here? This is a demon thing?"  
"I think so, yeah."  
"Well great. I'll do that. You're on your way back, yeah?"   
"Yep, see you in a few."  
"Right." Sam shuts the phone as Cas gets in the backseat. The angel hands a folder up to Sam, and Jack pulls out of the parking lot. 

Dean knocks on the bathroom door, shoving his phone in his pocket. There is no way this kid is a demon. No way. He tells himself to check anyway. Just to be safe.  
"Hey kid, when you get out, I have something to tell you. Something important."  
"One second." Sawyer pulls on their t-shirt, the one they had been wearing in the woods. Alice had washed it at the police station, but it was still torn up. Their jeans, too. Both articles of clothing have more than a couple mud stains, and maybe one or two bloodstains, but they don't mind. Just to be sure, they look in the mirror by standing on the bathtub, and spin around a bit to see themself from all angles. Good enough, none of the stains are too visible. They tie their hair up with a rubber band they'd found on a counter in the police station, then open the door to the bathroom and step out.   
Dean waits in the room, holding a metal water bottle.   
"I'm gonna need you to drink this. It's not drugged or anything, I promise."   
"Why?" they ask before taking a small sip.  
"Just testing something. Alright, good. You're good."  
"What were you going to tell me?"   
"Oh, right, that. Well you might want to sit down for this, cause I'm not sugarcoating anything."  
Sawyer sits in the armchair, crossing their legs. Dean sits on a bed, facing them. He crosses his legs at the same time.   
"This is going to be a lot, you ready?"  
"I'm ready." 

Dean takes a deep breath, unsure of where to start.   
"Alright. Well first thing's first. We aren't actually FBI. I'm sure you picked up on that."   
Sawyer nods. They've never met any FBI before, but they knew. They know what Dean's going to tell them next, too.   
"Okay, now here's the big thing. And it's going to sound crazy, but you're just going to have to bear with me here, okay?" Sawyer nods at this, expressionless.  
Dean takes a breath. "Okay. What we do, my brother, my kid, my... Cas, and I. We hunt things. We kill them. Monsters. Ghosts. Evil things. They're all real, and we think they're the reason you were in the woods that day."  
"Like a family business. Of saving people. And hunting things."  
"That's uh- that's right. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, angels. It's all real. My arm? Cut by a werewolf I was fighting. And Cas? He's an angel. Jack is the son of one. And to top that pile of crazy off, we think that demons have something to do with you being here."   
"I knew there was something different. About Cas and Jack. And you and your brother."  
"That's all? You knew?"   
"Yeah. I knew."  
"And I thought you had explaining to do before," Dean says, disbelief in his voice. This kid just gets weirder and weirder.

Jack pulls up to the motel, and turns the car off. He likes driving. He's getting better. The three walk into the motel room, where Sawyer sits on their chair, and Dean sits on a bed. Jack instantly knows that they had just had "The Talk". Both turn to the door, relieved that their awkward lapse of silence had been interrupted so soon after it began.   
"Cas, hey. Sammy, Jack, you guys should sit."   
Jack, looking curious, crosses the room and sits on the other bed. He stares at each of the room's occupants, one at a time, gazing for a bit then moving to the next. Dean, Cas, Sam, Sawyer. His gaze lingers on Sawyer, who looks back, uncomfortable. Cas moves and sits next to Dean, close as he can sit. Sam stays standing, stepping closer to the group, but not sitting. He bears the same expression as Jack does.   
Sawyer takes a breath, then they take a sip of water from the water bottle Dean had given them earlier, both because their mouth is dry and because they wanted to prove a point.   
"Alright. You want my story. What I know. Well I know more than you think, and I'm going to tell you all of it."   
Glances are exchanged, but each gaze roams to fall back on Sawyer. The air in the room is tense, apprehensive. A collective breath is held.   
"Well I can start with this. I know why I was in those woods. I know what put me there. And I know what you guys do, who you are. You're the Winchesters. You hunt monsters. You save lives. That note in my pocket... Well I was hoping you could save mine. Maybe I can save yours too."  
Silence hangs over their heads like a tacit halo. Then Dean speaks.   
"What do we need saving from?"  
"The thing that left me here. The thing in those woods. A demon. A demon like none you've seen before."  
"And how do you know this? How do you know any of this?" Cas speaks this time, voicing the suspicion that everyone is feeling. His hand reaches for Dean's, a movement that is now common, and never goes unnoticed.   
"Because I know it. I know this demon well."  
"And why is tha-"  
"Because it possessed me. It possessed me for years." 

Next to no light shines through the windows of the motel room, and lamps inside are lit. It is a dark, cloudy day, and it will turn into a dark, rainy night.   
"It left me in the woods, where I woke up. Those woods are where it found me. In a town that was there long ago. Have you heard of the Old Bell Massacre? That's what they call it these days."  
Sam straightens his back, looking around, thinking. He remembers something he read long ago.   
"Old Bell, isn't that the place that was found abandoned in the 1800s? All it's inhabitants had killed each other, Hunger Games style, and all their bodies were stacked around the bell in the town center. No one knows what happened to this day."  
"That's the one."   
"Are you saying that was the demon? That killed all those people?"  
"No, no, it wasn't the demon that killed them, not all of them. They killed each other. The demon had to choose someone. Killed the weak. Too sick, too old, too young. Rest of us were left." Sawyer shows next to no emotion. Their features are relaxed, their voice steady. They speak flatly and plainly, and clench their hands on the hem of their shirt.  
"But you said... you said you didn't remember anything," Dean interjects, a combination of anger and worry on his face.   
"I lied. I have many memories."  
Sam speaks up from his side of the room. "Wait. So are you saying that fight... was all to choose a vessel?"  
"That's right."   
"Well no offense, but out of the whole town, why'd the demon choose you? You're a teenager with a limp. Why not an adult?" Dean says doubtfully, tensing as Cas shifts to lean on him.  
"Because I survived. One survivor."  
"She's right. There was one body that was never found. It sparked a search, a mystery. Kind of like the Anastasia Romanoff story." Sam remembers hearing that story from Bobby when he was younger, and it had stuck with him since, every last detail.   
"Hold on, the body that was missing... it was a 15 year old boy."  
"Yeah, well I've uh- grappled with my gender a few times. I wouldn't say I'm either of them," Sawyer says simply.   
"Alright, there's one thing I still don't understand. A demon got top picks on a whole town, and decides to steal the body of a 15 year old? Couldn't it have killed everyone but the best?"  
"Well, it didn't think it was going to be me. I was kind of a... last minute decision. There was another man, he seemed like the last one left. He had killed many, his own friends. His family. He was standing under the bell, when he saw the demon. It spoke to him, saying what it would do to him. Then he looked around, and saw what he had done. Killed. And he saw me.  
"I had been hiding, I hadn't killed. I'd like to think that I could have if I needed to, but I knew what was happening. I had smelled the sulfur, and seen the eyes. The man saw me when I left the schoolhouse where I had hid. I thought everyone was dead. I was going to kill myself, I couldn't let that thing get me. He laughed when he saw me. He was thinking the same thing as me. I didn't save anyone in that town, even though I tried. And then, in the center of town, the demon was about to take him. The man under the bell. But the supports that held up the bell broke, and the big, metal bell... it fell on him.  
"I was the last one left. The demon, it possessed me. I couldn't escape it. It was me who stacked the bodies around the bell. I was possessed, and I had to watch."   
Tears pool in Sawyer's eyes. But they don't let them fall. No one to cry about, that was so long ago now. They take another sip of the holy water, draining the bottle. They drink it to remind themself that they're not a demon.   
"I've been possessed ever since then. The demon would leave sometimes, for a few weeks at a time. Seeing other demons, I think. One time I was in Memphis, that was maybe the 1940's. Then a few decades later, I was left in a little town in Maine."  
"Wait wait hold on. If this has happened before, how do you know the demon won't come back?" Dean says this, his eyes flicking to the empty cup of holy water on the table.  
"Because I'm back at the start. And it said it wouldn't come back. I know it won't. And I've got some insurance, this time." They pull up their shirt very slightly, revealing a healing wound in their stomach, in the shape of a pentagram. An anti-possession wound.   
"I know, a lot to take in. But that's what I know. So I'll say it again. You save my life, I'll save yours. From the demon. Help me kill it."   
"We will, we promise. All of us." Jack says this, speaking for all of them. The others nod, together. Sawyer sighs, relaxing a little. The Winchesters trust them.   
"First, why was the paper in your pocket," Cas says, a note of suspicion in his voice. "Who put it there?"   
"I did. I heard of you, heard many times. And I wrote that so I would remember, in case my memories got... tampered with."   
Dean stands up, releasing Cas's hand. He clears his throat and looks at Cas, as if to tell him not to ask more questions. "Well I'd say we should probably do some demon-proofing. Some bombproof demon-proofing."   
Sawyer stands up too. "I can help. I know a trick or two that you might not."  
"Oh yeah? Like what?"   
"Do you have any tape?" 

With Jack going through their duffel bags for supplies, and Sam and Dean checking the trunk of the car, Cas approaches Sawyer.   
"Something about you is wrong. Inhuman. I know it," he says in a quiet, gravelly voice.   
Sawyer says nothing.   
"You drank holy water, but that means nothing. You aren't human. Your soul isn't human. Whatever you are, I'm going to find out. And if you prove to be a threat to my family, I will not hesitate to- hello, Jack."  
"Hey, I was just wondering if I should go tell Sam and Dean that their salt supplies in their bags are low. Do you think they know?"   
"I'm sure they know. But you should go to tell them anyways."   
Jack smiles and jogs to the door, nearly-empty containers of salt in his hands.   
With Jack out of the room, Cas opens his mouth to speak again. Sawyer cuts him off.   
"You're an angel. I know you're an angel. You can touch my soul, hold it in your hands. You'll see that I'm completely human. Do it. I dare you. What will they think when they walk in and see you, holding my soul?"  
"They are my family. I'm going to keep them safe."   
The door opens, and Sam steps in, his hands full of salt, paint bottles, and weapons. Dean and Jack walk in after him, carrying similar loads of stuff.   
"So, kid, what are those 'tricks' you were talking about?" 

Sawyer stands back, admiring their handiwork. They had used curled duct tape to secure lines of salt to the windows and doors. They also did this around the bases of walls.   
"I've seen demons smash through walls to avoid salt lines. They don't have to be polite."   
They also told Sam and Dean about filling small glass jars with holy water to throw at demons, and how they used to wear an iron ring on each hand to fight ghosts with. They had learned this from an older hunter in their hometown, a friend of their family. He had died days before the massacre. Sometimes Sawyer wonders to themself if he knew what was going to happen. 

After they finished proofing the room, a small argument broke out between the Winchesters. Sawyer and Jack, seated on a bed, listen to the three bicker. Neither of them a part of the argument, they watch and listen. Sam insists that they go back to the woods where Sawyer was found, retrace their steps, and see what they find in the forest. Dean argues that any sulfur or anything would be washed away by rain, and that the demons wouldn't stick around anyways. Cas seems to be neutral. Jack informs Sawyer that Cas is usually neutral.  
"Yeah, the rain is washing evidence away as we speak, Dean, which is why we should get out there before it's all gone!"  
"Sam, dammit, do we look like we should be going anywhere? Look at the kid, what they just said. I'm not bringing them back there."   
"I agree with Dean, Sawyer shouldn't come."   
"Well maybe you shouldn't either, Dean. If you're going to be problematic. You're injured anyways. You stay with the kid."   
"Oh shut up you can't use that as an excuse to leave me behind. I'm going. Jack can stay with them."  
"You really want to leave Jack?"  
"Well I sure as hell am not going to bring him with us-"  
"Hey!" Sawyer shouts, louder than they intended to. Three heads turn to them.   
"I uh- I want to go. With you. To the woods."   
"Great see, they're ready. Lets go." Sam is anxious to leave, they can tell.  
"No. Not today. Not today. We can't be there when it's dark." Sawyer knows this. They can't be there at night.   
"So we'll go tomorrow then. Cas and I, we'll go check out the-"   
"We all go." Sawyer looks at Jack, and smiles slightly. They can tell he wants to be included. That he's tired of being treated like a kid. They also know that he _is_ a kid. But they want him to go with them. They're a kid too.  
"I agree with Sawyer. More eyes and more arms. As much as I don't like it, we need as many people as we can bring."   
And with those two sentences, Cas ends the argument. 

Briefly, Sawyer remembers their dream. The forest. They know where they are now. The top of that hill. The town, it sits down the other side. They feel, underneath them, buried in the soil of the forest. That small metal object, buried in the forest. It contains such evil. And tomorrow they are going to find it. They are going to take it from its place in the dirt. It belongs to them. Tomorrow, they will take it back. But they have to get through today first. The rest of today, one last day, a few last hours without that evil with them. Their evil. A few last hours of good. Then, Cas will be right. They won't be good. They won't be human. 


	4. The Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to writing! Not only did I finish editing the chapters, for now at least, but I changed the title to make it less cheesy! Now it's a song reference, which is cool! (For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica). I'm pretty proud of what I've written so far! I love writing this story, as I'm sure I've said before, and I can't wait to see where it takes me next! This chapter has taken a bit longer, I think it's been two or three days. I've been busy and tired and it's been hard to write. Update: Well it's been even longer now, I haven't had internet for two days! The universe really didn't want me to write this I suppose. Sorry if the formatting is weird in this one, my computer decided to shut down for no reason and so I have to copy and paste it all from my back up Google Doc. Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter out in less time than this one took. The story is really picking up, and I'm loving it! Please, if you have feedback, comment it! If you want to, of course. I'd love to see what people think of this! Okay that was a lot of random notes, I don't really know why I do these every chapter but I'm gonna keep doing them. That's all! Enjoy!

Sawyer can't get it out of their head. The woods. The bell. Tomorrow. They stare at a wall, thinking about the bell. How it crushed that man. How he laughed. That hill, their flee from the hill, to the road. Will they be able to find their way back? Will they want to? What will they find when they get there?

"So we've got some daylight left, and we've been cooped up in here all day. You need some things. How's about we go into town and stock up on supplies? We need salt and groceries anyways, there's a Goodwill not too far away." Dean asks them directly, snapping them out of their spiraling thoughts. Had they been sitting there silently for minutes? Seconds? An hour? Two? Dean had asked them a question. They shake their head rapidly, clearing their thoughts.   
"Goodwill?"  
"For clothes. I figure you won't want to be doing much wearing what you've got now," Dean says, spinning his car keys in his hand.   
"You heading out?" Sam looks worried, but doesn't mention it. "Remember to get enough food for a while, not just snacks."   
Dean rolls his eyes a little and nods. He then turns to Sawyer. "So, you want to come?"  
"Yes."   
"Alright, give me a second to get out of this suit." They smile as he takes clothes from his bag and heads to the bathroom to change. A store. They haven't been in a store in a while. A long while. 

Minutes later, Dean and Sawyer are in the Impala reversing out of the Rhododendron Motel parking lot. Sawyer is sitting excitedly in the front seat, holding a shopping list that Sam had written. They left Sam, Jack, and Cas in the motel room right as they had begun a card game, Sam teaching Cas and Jack to play rummy. Iron Man by Black Sabbath is playing through the car's speakers, still playing from the song they left off on the night before. 

"So I'm thinking we stop here in town for salt and groceries. I think I saw a little grocery store next to the hardware store, then we have to go to the next town over to get to the Goodwill. Hope you're okay with secondhand clothes because I'm not taking you to no mall."   
"I don't think I've ever had firsthand clothes. Malls are unpleasant."  
"Couldn't agree more. They smell like gross candles and they're always full of teenagers."  
"I'm a teenager," Sawyer says, pretending to be offended.   
"Yeah, well, I'll make sure you don't go buying any candles. Hey, grab me a tape from the glove compartment okay? It's gonna say "Best of Zeppelin" on it."

Baby glides to a halt outside a small hardware store with a sign above the door saying that it was founded in 1896 by a man called Jeb. Sawyer wonders who Jeb was, and if they'd known anyone who knew him. A small metal bell rings as Dean pushes the door open. 

After finding what they were looking for, Dean chats briefly with the man behind the checkout counter as Sawyer struggles to hold the massive bag of rock salt. Dean picks up some extra batteries and puts them on the counter as well, which Sawyer assumes are for flashlights.   
"So, you got a pool or something?" The man asks, scanning the second pack of batteries.   
"What?"  
"The salt."   
"Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, we've got a pool. Got to prep it for the uh... warm season, right?" Dean awkwardly lies, handing the man the appropriate cash to pay for their purchase. The man looks at them both strangely, and says nothing. Sawyer hands the bag of salt back to Dean as they leave, and he sets it in the trunk, along with the batteries. He shuts the trunk, and they head for the small grocery store a few doors down. 

The trunk is now full of not only salt and batteries but grocery bags containing eggs, bread, cheese, lunch meat, beef jerky, pie, too many snacks, and an excessive selection of candy that Sawyer and Dean couldn't resist buying. Another bag which they put in the back seat contained a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, a hairbrush, hair ties, and a few pairs of socks, all for Sawyer.  
"Surprising that they sold socks and stuff," Sawyer says, looking through their bag.   
"Yeah, those small town grocery stores sell everything. It's one of those universal things, can always count on the small town grocery stores."   
As Dean turns the key in the ignition, Kashmir starts to play, and they begin the drive to Goodwill. Sawyer wonders if this place will sell everything, too. They realize that they don't actually know what kind of clothes they like to wear. They've got jeans and a shirt, and a hoodie and some sweatpants, but last time they thought about the clothes they were wearing was decades ago. 

In the store, Sawyer finds two pairs of jeans that fit them. They also find a plain green t-shirt, similar to the one they already have, a plain gray shirt, and two flannel shirts, just like the Winchester's. They find a pair of hiking boots that fit them decently, just slightly too big. Anything is better than the old rain boots they'd been wearing already. From a rack on the end of an aisle, they take a pack of underwear. The small town grocery store didn't have those. They also find themself a warm, gray coat that fits over their layers, and a hat. From a rack next to the shoe section, they also find a burlap messenger bag, which they decide will be useful. The brightness of the lights and the loudness of the music are new and strange, and Sawyer finds that they don't like the place very much. It's too big, it's too much. There are only three or four other people wandering around in the store, and it somehow feels empty and crowded simultaneously. As Dean and Sawyer are heading toward the cashiers, Dean stops and takes a shirt from a rack.   
"Hey, check it out! Metallica!" Dean says, holding the shirt up.   
"What's Metallica?"   
Dean looks insulted, almost heartbroken. "What's- I- I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. We're buying this."   
"For you?"   
"No, for you. It's a men's medium. And we're listening to it in the car." He tosses the shirt into the basket he's holding. "'What's Metallica'. No one's asking that question here, not on my watch." 

It's dark as they leave the Goodwill, and Sawyer feels like they'd been in there for days. They listen to Enter Sandman on the way back to the motel, and Sawyer finds that themself liking Metallica as well.   
Dean, glancing for a second at the kid in the passenger seat, is glad to see a smile on the teen's face. They'd looked so afraid since he'd met them, and he feels bad about bringing them back to those woods. He knows that there's something terrible there, waiting for them. He knows that they don't want to go back. But they've got to. He turns up the music, watching Sawyer nod her head in time to the music. They like music. This is the third band he's shown them, and they've enjoyed all three. He isn't proud of it, but the kid is growing on him, and Sawyer knows it. 

"Dean, you forgot to get fruit." Sam says, looking through a bag again.   
"A man can't live off of only fruit, Sammy. It isn't possible. Besides, I got bananas." Dean says, taking a beer out of the cooler that Sam is stocking.  
"Dean, I'm not gonna eat only bananas, bread, and cheese," Sam says crossly.  
"Sam, I thought vegetarians don't eat cheese," says Jack from across the room, where he sits reading.   
"I believe that's vegans, Jack," Cas responds.   
"Oh."   
"Come on, Dean, you can't just think about yourself when you're shopping for everyone."  
"Well, that's just like, your opinion, man," Dean says. Sam sighs defeated, then realizes the movie reference and chuckles.   
"Where's the fruit, Lebowski?" Sam adds, laughing at his own joke.  
"Dude, no," Dean laughs.   
"I thought it was good."  
"It was really bad, dude."   
"Then why are you laughing?"

The dark evening turns into the dark night, and Dean has just won the second game of rummy. The first game was won, surprisingly, by Castiel, who had dismissed it as beginner's luck. Despite his efforts to be humble, there remained a hint of pride in his voice. Putting away their cards, the realization of what tomorrow could hold had begun to set in. Sawyer notes that the Winchesters seem to be used to this feeling. The five of them rush around the motel room and in and out from the car, mostly silent except for the occasional inquiry as to where something is, what to do with an object, if something should be brought. Sam strode through the room, taking inventory of their belongings. They packed bags into the trunk of the car, bringing holy water, salt, iron, silver, lighters, flashlights, and knives. Sawyer was told that the strangely shaped silver knives were angel blades, which killed angels and demons alike, as well as other creatures. Jack and Dean were counting bullets, some of which had devil's traps carved into them. Cas was in charge of other supplies, such as first aid and food. Sawyer was not told to help with anything, so they take care of their own belongings, which are very few. They arrange what clothes they will wear the next day, hiking boots, socks, jeans, a shirt, the warmer of the flannels, and the large coat. They take their toothbrush, hairbrush, and other newly bought items out of the packaging, and set them in the bathroom. After they pack their messenger bag, they look back at the clothes that they set out. Smiling, they replace the gray t-shirt with the Metallica shirt. 

After the car is packed, the Winchesters and Sawyer settle back into their beds. Jack continues to read Wonder, nearly finished with the book. Cas and Dean share their bed again, despite Sam being curled on his side, taking up only a half of the bed. Sawyer is content with staying in their chair, even when the others tell them that they have other options. Sam offers to sleep in the car to give them a bed, but they know that they won't be sleeping much, and refuse. It seems that no one in that room will sleep restfully that night, but after about fifteen minutes Sam and Cas drift to sleep, Sam hugging a pillow and Cas with an arm thrown over Dean. Jack clicks off his light after a while, having finished the book. Sawyer feigns sleep, expecting themself to become more tired with their eyes closed. They open their eyes again, with an idea. Waiting ten minutes or so, until the last person awake, Dean, settles in, they stand up and find some scissors in the dark. They pad over to the bathroom, where they experiment with how much toothpaste is too much to brush their teeth with. They then spend time sorting out their hair, and using the scissors, begin to cut it. It's been too long for years, and they haven't had the opportunity to do anything about it, as they had been going as a girl for a while. They love the feeling of control it gives them, similar to the feeling of picking their clothing. Freedom. With their hair now just down to the base of their skull, just past their ears, they look in the mirror. This is what they want to look like. They put the hair in the trash, not knowing what else to do with it, and pile some toilet paper on top. They then head back to their chair, quietly as they can.  
Everyone in the room sleeps restlessly, waking up from nightmares, from thoughts, or from cold. Eventually Jack gets up and paces around the room, stepping outside for a couple of minutes, then going back to his bed. The morning comes too soon.   


The morning wouldn't have come so soon if they hadn't decided to set their alarms so early, but an early start allows them to be out of the woods before dark. Sawyer gets themself dressed, admiring their new clothes and hair. Dean, upon noticing the Metallica shirt, holds his hand out for a fist-bump. Sawyer, after a spit second of confusion, returns the gesture. They force themself to eat a few bites of food, and watch as Jack prepares coffee. He offers them a mug, which they accept, never having drank coffee before. Jack has a cup as well.   
"It's bitter, isn't it?"  
"It is." Sawyer grimaces and sets down their cup.  
"I've never liked it," Jack says, setting his mug down as well.   
Cas walks over to them, wearing his trench coat. "I believe you're supposed to add milk to that," he says, taking a cup for himself. Sawyer and Jack compete to see which of them can drink the most, which Sawyer wins, draining their cup. They cough, the hot coffee hurting their throat and the bitter taste doing nothing to help. Apparently, though, Sawyer is competitive, and in their victory, they don't seem to care about their burnt throat. 

After the morning's quick preparations, the five climb into the Impala. Dean drives, Sam navigates from the passenger seat, and Jack, Sawyer, and Cas sit awkwardly in the back. Sawyer is squished into the middle at first, but they switch seats with Jack so that they can see through where they are through the window. They don't know if their memory will be good enough, but Sam has a map of the area, and they know that they'll be able to find their way back to that hill by the feeling of the Evil.   


The car is silent for a brief minute, then a conversation picks up between Sawyer and Jack. They talk about the book _Wonder_ , a conversation that Sam joins after a second. Dean and Cas make eye contact through the rear-view mirror, but stay silent.   
They turn onto a forest service road that Sawyer recognizes, and through the windshield they can see the hills that they had come to fear. Dean stops the car on the bridge where they had been found on that one terrifying night, a night that to Sawyer feels like years ago. Each person takes a bag from the trunk of the car, and Dean opens a compartment that Sawyer had not noticed. The bottom of the trunk lifts up to reveal an array of weapons from guns to knives to brass knuckles. The brothers grab an assortment of these, shotguns, handguns, and extra holy water. Closing the car, the group sets off into the woods, Sawyer in the lead. 

"So Sawyer, do you think you'll be able to retrace your steps?"  
"I know I will. I followed the river for a while, and before that I went down a hill." They point to a specific point of one hill, the one that they were on top of when they woke up. They remember the shape of it, the patch of alder trees on one side, and the great dead maple at the top. "That hill."   
Sawyer, still limping, falls behind in the group. They let Dean take the lead instead, Sam walking just behind him. Jack hurries to catch up with Sawyer, keeping pace next to them. Cas eyes them warily, but says nothing.   
"Hey, you're limping pretty bad."  
"It's fine," Sawyer says, fixing their gate to limp less.   
"Okay, if you say so."   
Jack stays next to them, still keeping pace.   
"So... what was it like?" He asks this innocently, snapping a large branch with his foot as he steps over it.   
"What was what like?" Sawyer responds. They know what he's going to say.   
"What was it like being possessed?"   
"Right. It was strange..." Sawyer feels the others listening to them also, but continues talking anyways. "Most of the time, it was just me alone in my head. Sometimes, I would see through my eyes, or feel something, usually pain. The demon wanted me to see and feel sometimes. Or to speak."   
"I'm sorry."  
"I'm free now, that's what matters to me."   
They once again lapse into silence, walking closer to the others in the group. 

Sawyer stops them after a second, recognizing a pool of water that they had fallen into. They are at the base of the hill. They turn, heading uphill now, and can feel themself getting closer and closer to the object in the ground at the top. The incline is steep, and they can see torn ferns and streaks in the mud where they had fallen. Sawyer struggles to climb on their injured ankle, using roots and ferns to pull themself up. The pain is dull and constant, with an occasional burning sensation when they bend it wrong. The hill is taller than they had thought, seeing as they had been falling rather quickly. The group is panting as they reach the top of the hill, and as soon as they stand on flat ground, they feel something wash over them. Something dark. Sawyer stands there, at the edge of the hill, looking up through the trees and out to the valley. Sensing four sets of eyes on their back, they turn, and walk to the place. From their dreams. From that day. Where they woke up. Where the Evil is. Sitting there, on the ground on top of it, is a dead bird. A robin, it's red stomach facing up, it's gray wings splayed out beside it. A dark string is tightly tangled around the bird's neck, wings, and feet. The whole thing smells of sulfur.   
Have the others seen? Sawyer kneels next to the bird and unwraps the string, quickly. The string, as they pick it up, is connected to something. The metal thing in the ground. They finally have it. They hold the limp body of the bird in one hand, it's feathers soft, it's dead eye staring blankly at the sky. With the other hand, they put the string and the Evil into the breast pocket of their flannel, hidden away from the Winchesters. They cannot know. Standing, they hold out their hands, in which the robin is cupped.   
Jack is closest to Sawyer, and he steps toward them to get a better look. He frowns, one eyebrow slightly raised. He blinks, feeling his eyes almost begin to water. He won't cry over a dead bird.  
"Poor thing," he says, touching the bird's beak with one finger.   
Sam, Dean, and Cas approach, noticing the sulfur.   
"That's gross," Dean mutters, pressing his lips together. He looks around, scanning the ground for sulfur, for footprints, for more dead birds. For anything.   
Sam taps his brother's shoulder, realizing something. "Wait- do you think that bird was possessed?" Sawyer nods solemnly, still staring at the bird in their hands.   
"Can demons even possess animals?" Cas asks.   
"I've never seen it before, but it's not unheard of." Sam states. "Question is who possessed it."  
Sawyer puts down the bird, on the ground where they had found it, in the same position. "I know who possessed it," they say quietly. "It's the same demon that possessed me. The question is how long."  
"How long?" Dean asks suspiciously.   
"Only reason a demon would be in a bird is to blend in, avoid suspicion. To avoid being seen."   
"You think it was watching you."   
"I think it was watching _us_."


End file.
